Red Card
by mirroredsakura
Summary: PWP. High school AU. Because Gundam girls can play high school soccer without sudden personality switches into their Sailor Moon counterparts.


**Title: **Red Card

**Author: **mirroredsakura

**Pairing: **various; straight pairings 'cause I don't mess with yaoi in GW

**Rating: **Looking to be PG-13

**Notes: **To prove I can. Yes, it's really that simple. I want to prove that it is possible to generic AU high school fanfic without _Clueless_-inspired personality switches. (And I use the term _Clueless_ because I haven't watched TV in years and I can't think of anything more recent to compare it to) PWP.

_Pbbbbbttt!_

The whistle blew loudly, as the referee and assorted coaches rushed into the field, making a beeline straight for the scuffle breaking out between two wing players that the rest of the team members were either egging on or struggling to pull them apart.

The fact that one of them was nearly twice the size of the other made the situation seem that much more perilous.

Not that the little pixie seemed incapable of taking care of herself. Far from it, in fact—though she'd been crushed into the ground by the other girl's superior bulk and her toned legs trapped, she'd gotten a hold of a head of sweaty blonde hair and was systematically pummelling the side of it with one seemingly dainty fist.

Four girls in both team shirts were trying to haul the two apart—not a simple task as both of them were still grappling with the other and weren't keen on being separated until a victor immerged.

"_Schiebecker!_"

The coach's voice was one of steely control. Une was not a woman that a girl wanted to mess with, _especially_ when she was looking down on you with those eyes and adjusting her glasses firmly on her nose. Instantly Hilde froze, just as the other girl was physically wrenched off her with the combined force of several members of the team, the rival coach and the referee.

"But damn it, Coach!" she exclaimed, rubbing a hand against the reddening patch on her cheek, ignoring the fact that her split lip was oozing blood. "I—"

"No excuses."

The girl quailed under the furiously cold gaze of her coach, even as the referee stormed up, flashing the red card in both girls' faces. "Get out of here!"

Coach dragged Hilde off to the sidelines, heading straight for the first aid kit, as the ref ordered the teams to return to their places, yelling "Play ball!" with a sharp blast on his whistle for emphasis.

Midii was already waiting with the white metal box, sitting quietly on the bench, her uniform still spotless from her lack of action on the field. She opened it without a word, mercilessly applying an iodine-soaked piece of cotton to Hilde's lip, which caused the other girl to shriek.

"Be quiet," she murmured, cutting into Hilde's still-enraged spiel about the unfairness of things, "You're lucky the ref showed her the red card too. You're the one who threw the first blow." Her lip quirked upwards, as she handed over an icepack for Hilde's jaw, "Although I don't think the term applies when you went and kicked her in the head."

"I couldn't help it," Hilde grumped as she pressed the icepack against her face and watch her team members streak past on the field, "Her head was large enough to be the ball, it was clearly an innocent mistake on my part."

"I'm afraid that is not nearly good enough of an excuse, Schiebecker."

Hilde winced at the sound of Coach's voice. "Erm… yes'm…" she muttered, her eyes dropping to the smudged toes of her cleats.

The Coach's eyes never left the field, but the punishment was she meting was most definitely for her. "I expect ten laps around the field after the game, Schiebecker. Knees to your elbows."

"But Coach! We're going to beat these guys! You can't start the celebration without me!"

"Don't talk like that, please." Coach replied coldly, her game face still on, as she tracked Meiran's progress with the ball. "And I suppose that means you had better hurry it up on your laps instead of dragging along like you like to do."

Hilde subsided with a muttered growl, as Midii quietly patted her on the shoulder, bundled the rest of the supplies back into the white box, and set it neatly beside her as she turned back to the game.

A pass to Sally later found the team leader charging towards the opposite end of the field—the ball was soon flying in a clean arc past the gloved hands of their goalie.

"_GOAL!_"

"_WHOO!_" whooped Hilde, leaping to her feet. "We've won!"

With that, she grabbed Midii's hand, dragged her to her feet, and shot off towards the place where the team was congregating, crowding around Sally as they cheered loudly.

Une's face had melted into a brilliant smile as she jogged over to them, "Good work, girls." She told them warmly, pulling off her glasses, "I'm proud of you."

Then she turned back to Hilde. "You. Laps. The rest of you hit the showers. You can celebrate after you stop smelling like men."

Sally raised an eyebrow as she unpinned her hair from its pseudo ponytail and let it cascade back down to her shoulders in a honey-gold wave of miraculous hairstyle engineering. Without a single touch of her hands, it twisted itself neatly into twin pigtails on either side of her face. "I generally like how men smell."

"Not after a game out in the sun and the dirt and sweating like pigs, you don't."

She cocked her head, thinking. "Point taken. Come on girls; let's hit the showers. Then we head out for dinner and load up on all the greasy fries and shakes we can get our grubby little hands on. Interested, Coach?"

The woman grimaced, "Not on your life," she replied, "I have a date tonight."

Relena, who'd been in the process of mopping her brow with a towel looked up with interest, "With whom?" she inquired. For a moment Une looked smug. "Now as much as I love you girls, I'm not going to tell you that."

"Secrets," Dorothy retorted archly, finally speaking up after a gulp of what looked like designer water, "are meant to be told."

"Well it won't stay secret for long," Une replied, before her voice flattened. "And didn't I tell you girls to hit the showers?"

All of them, minus Hilde who was already running her second lap, immediately dashed towards the school building. Hilde picked up her pace the moment Une turned to watch her.

"I," Catherine Bloom was saying later, as she was in the process of slipping on her sneakers, "can never tell if Coach is bipolar, schizophrenic or just completely psychotic." She leaned back against the coolness of the concrete wall behind her, still comfortably shirtless.

Dorothy appeared out of the showers dripping, with a towel wrapped securely around her, and in the middle of wrapping her hair in a second. "Well there is certainly nothing wrong with being all of the above," she answered the redhead, before tossing something shiny over to Meiran. "You left that in the showers. Boyfriend won't be too happy with you if you lose it, I'm sure."

The dark-haired girl caught it and fumbled it wildly in the air for a moment before her hand closed protectively around it. "Yes… thank you."

The platinum blonde shrugged, "For someone who doesn't even _like_ her intended, you seem to take a lot of care in not losing it. I wouldn't want this to be the exception." She moved towards her locker, promptly dropping her towel on the bench next to her, and slipping on a lacy red confection of a bra.

Sally, tying her shoes shook her head, "I can't believe how old-fashioned that is," she was complaining. "You'd think in this day and age, they'd have gotten rid of stupid things like arranged marriages. What's so good about your man anyway?"

Meiran frowned. "He's really strong. Unfairly strong. I'm going to have to beat him one day."

"I have a feeling you're not just talking about soccer."

"In anything. Not even in martial arts, which I have to admit I'm pretty decent at."

Sally crooked up an eyebrow at that, "Twenty awards, four trophies, and several championship wins, and you tell people you're _decent_?"

"I still haven't beaten him," Meiran replied simply, slipping her ring back on her finger.

Relena stood up, straightening the lavender silk camisole she'd slipped on. "I don't suppose Hilde will be done anytime soon, will she?"

"At the rate she usually goes? Probably not even halfway through." Catherine replied, stuffing her things into her duffel.

"Ah, but you forget Une is with her," Dorothy replied, fully dressed in a ruby camisole and short black skirt. "She'll be here any minute, I'm sure… Coach will have her running double-time if she sees her slacking." She headed over towards the hair dryers.

"She had better be," Midii said from the doorway. "Because her boyfriend certainly is."

**End Chapter One.**

I told you beforehand. No plot. Roundabout character description—I prefer it this way, instead of feeling as if it's being spoon-fed down my gullet.

...I hate Always fucking up my words and characters and damned apostrophes and tildes and elipses.


End file.
